The Comanche Brother: An almost encounter with Johnny Depp

The rain fell in a steady, rhythmic patter against the car windshield, blurring the edges of the world around us as we cruised past fields of grazing cows. This was my first father-son road trip with my six-year-old, Liam, a journey we’d both been looking forward to. Our destination? Lawton, Oklahoma, to attend the much-anticipated Comanche Festival. The trip stretched about an hour and a half, and in a moment of preemptive wisdom, I had gifted Liam a Nintendo 3DS to keep him entertained. From the backseat, he excitedly called out every new move he made in his LEGO Jack Sparrow game, eager to share each moment of his adventure. I nodded along, stealing glances in the rearview mirror, but my eyes stayed fixed on the road, accompanied by the familiar crooning of Kings of Leon on the stereo.

As we rolled into Lawton, there was a palpable sense of excitement in the air. I’d heard rumors that Johnny Depp had recently been made an honorary brother of the Comanche tribe and that he would be attending the festival. The thought of seeing him in person was enough to stir up a little fanboy thrill in me. With my iPhone’s GPS guiding us, I navigated through the drizzle to the festival grounds, only to find the street blocked off by a police barricade. A brief exchange with the officer provided an alternate route, and soon enough, we crested a hill to see a vibrant scene unfold before us: colorful tents, crowds of people moving like currents in a river, and authentic teepees dotting the landscape.

We parked at a respectful distance, and I loaded up with my trusty Oklahoma University (OU) chair, a backpack filled with water bottles, and a few cherished items I hoped to have signed—sleeves from Braveheart, Dances with Wolves, and a photograph of Johnny Depp. Yes, I had heard whispers that Mel Gibson and Kevin Costner might also make appearances, and I was ready to seize the opportunity.

As we made our way up the festival grounds, we were greeted by a lively parade. Trucks adorned with decorations rolled by, and Oklahoma’s native tribes tossed candy to the excited children. Liam’s eyes sparkled with delight as he darted forward, collecting candy in his little hands, and I played my part, stashing his loot in my pockets for later.

Liam ready for some candy!

Then, I heard it—a murmur that rippled through the crowd like a sudden gust of wind: “Johnny Depp.” My eyes snapped to a sleek black Suburban approaching. The air grew electric, and cameras were whipped out in unison, mine included. As the vehicle passed, the crowd of girls erupted in excitement. "Johnny!!!" and "Johnny, we love you!!!" filled the air as they chased after the vehicle. I even spotted one woman overcome with emotion, tears streaming down her face. In a particularly memorable moment, a heavy-set Black woman handed her walking cane to a bystander and took off running after the car. Through it all, Johnny remained as cool as a cucumber, his black, bent cowboy hat resting casually on his head. I caught sight of a tattooed arm extending from the window, waving to the crowd. And that arm—I knew it well. I’d recognize it anywhere. As an avid Johnny Depp fan, I’ve watched every movie, pored over every detail, and this was unmistakably him. My heart raced as the car crept closer. His signature black, bent cowboy hat, adorned with turquoise beads and a single feather, tilted just enough to catch the rain. Rings glinted on every finger, and I glimpsed the “Jack” tattoo he wore for his son and his Pirates of the Caribbean role. The arm waved one last time before disappearing into the crowd.

Johnny Depp waving to fans

With our excitement barely contained, Liam and I continued to explore the festival, munching on candy and enjoying the festivities. He spent some birthday money on a light-up sword, and we hopped between tents to escape the rain that steadily drummed down on us. Meanwhile, I stayed in contact with Kris, a friend of a friend who was running sound for the festival and had promised to help us meet Johnny one-on-one. As we made our way to the gymnasium where Kris was waiting, I noticed a long line snaking around the parking lot. Apparently, Johnny was giving a special talk to the kids under 18, and adults could attend if they had young children with them. But since I was already promised a private meeting, I figured there was no need to join the line.

The rain continued to fall, and we sought shelter under a tent where we indulged in a chocolate-covered cheesecake—a treat that made Liam’s eyes light up with delight. Eventually, we circled back to the gymnasium, only to hear that Johnny had finished his talk. In a moment of impulsiveness, I slipped inside with Liam, hoping for a closer look.

Johnny signing autographs

I squeezed Liam’s hand as we navigated through the throngs of people, the air thick with excitement. An elder spoke into the microphone, his voice carrying the reverence of tradition, and in the center of it all stood Johnny Depp. The iconic blue-tinted glasses, the worn-out cowboy hat tilted just so, and the vest that made him look like he’d stepped straight off a movie set—it was him, in the flesh. He moved with the calm, practiced ease of someone used to the frenzy, signing autographs with quick, fluid motions. I handed Liam the rolled-up photograph, and he inched forward, eager to have it signed. Flash after flash, cameras captured the moment until, all too quickly, it was over. Johnny was whisked away, leaving behind a crowd still buzzing with excitement.

We waited as the festival wound down, hoping for one last chance to meet him. Kris called, apologizing that he couldn’t get us in for a face-to-face, and just like that, the dream of a personal encounter slipped away.

But the day wasn’t over. I bought Liam a necklace from a nearby tent, the haunting notes of native flutes filling the air. The rain, which had been a steady drizzle, now turned into a downpour. As we made our way back to the car, the wind howled, whipping the rain into our faces. Liam shivered, clutching his arms around himself. “This is a bad adventure,” he whimpered repeatedly. Without hesitation, I scooped him into my arms, sheltering him from the cold and the rain, my breath fogging in the air as I trudged uphill, burdened by the weight of a fold-up chair, a backpack, and my trembling son.

Finally, we reached the car. I bundled him into the backseat and cranked up the heat, holding him close until we both began to thaw. Once warm, I slid into the front seat, took a deep breath, and shot Liam a determined grin. “Let’s do this,” I said, mimicking the dramatic tone of a buddy cop film. In that moment, I half-expected him to roll his eyes and mutter, “I’m getting too old for this.”

We ended the day with a stop at Burger King, and as Liam powered up his Nintendo 3DS, I couldn’t help but feel that despite the rain and the setbacks, it had been an adventure to remember.